Catch Him if you can
by Madison-Writer
Summary: For the twenty-eight years, Anna-Marie Darkholme has known Remy Lebeua, not once has she seen him fall for a woman, the women do that, and so has she. Anna-Marie knew she stood not a chance with the man she had secretly loved for the last ten years. But w
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men evolution.

**_Prologue._**

District Attorney Jillian Carter had always prided herself at being reasonable and rational at all times, opting for scientific answers rather than emotional or physical ones. And at every turn she had found the answer, but this one problem, namely her relationship with Hollywood's most eligible bachelor and worldwide heartthrob, Remy Lebeau, had yielded no scientific answers.

Remy Lebeau was pure Sin with a capital S.

It wasn't just what he looked like; exotic smouldering red on black eyes fringed by ridiculously long sooty lashes, chiselled features with cheekbones that supermodels would envy, thick silky golden chestnut hair, perpetually caught up in a loose ponytail at the back of his head, or his tall lanky body, like velvety gold poured over smooth supple steel.

It didn't even have to do with the way he spoke; his unique French accent like smooth dark decadent chocolate dripping with thick honey. With the arrogant, self-assured way he walked. The man carried himself with grace and regality that she had never come across before. His playful, devil-may-care attitude was at odds with the grace and regality that he carried himself.

It was what he did to her both inside and out.

He would flash that lazy, devilish smile that promised a woman paradise and delivered. One hundred percent satisfaction guaranteed. He was pure unadulterated sin. He might have looked like a daemon and walked like a daemon, but in bed he was a thorough breed animal. When he touched her, she came apart at the seams. She waited breathlessly each time for the sense of perfection she always felt around him to abate after all these months she'd known him.

Instead, each time she saw him, she was filled with the ridiculous notion of learning more about the man that was still largely a mystery to her. Even after knowing him for four months, all of which they had been sleeping together, she still knew next to nothing about him except for what she'd heard over the years from the media. That is, he was the most paid actor in Hollywood, all his movies becoming box office hits and winnings awards. He was from an old money family, his father being an oil tycoon, his mother a computer mogul. Both his parents coming from well-off aristocratic French families. The media had nicknamed him Le Diable Blanc- the white devil. Apart from that, she knew nothing else. His private life was off limits to her and all the other women he had dated over the years.

As she entered the lobby of Remy's apartment building, she nodded curtly to the two security guards stationed, and headed for the bank of elevators. Minutes later, she was ringing his penthouse's doorbell. No one answered. _The guards would have told her if he was not home. _She thought to herself, then nearly smacked herself over the head with the little Gucci purse she held in her arms. Remy was a known womanizer and their relationship that required any of them being faithful with each other. He was probably in bed right now with another woman, probably a model.

He seemed to have a penchant for models.

Angry hurtful words she could say to him when he opened the door buzzed around in her brain. Her pale blue eyes narrowed in anger and she pivoted on her heels about to leave.

It was then that the door opened and there stood Remy. He wore only a plush cotton bathrobe, tied loosely around slim hips. The V of the robe was slightly open, displaying olive tanned skin that just begged to be kissed. His hair was down for once, curling wet around his shoulders. His long muscled legs, with dusting of brown hair shimmered with drops of water that he had not yet dried off.

At the sight of him, her mouth went dry. All thoughts fleeing from her brain. A slow heat unfolded. She licked parched lips, hungry eyes devouring him from head to toe. "Can I come in," she purred.

All Remy did was step aside, gesturing for her to enter.

That was when the telephone rang.


	2. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer: Once, again. I don't own the X-Men. Secondly, I have made a few changes to chapter two and Chapter three, not much, but still some changes**

Chapter Two

* * *

His quiet arrival went unnoticed by the figure dancing and twirling gracefully across the ice.

He sat down on one of the bleachers nearest to the plexus-glass surrounding the ice rink, and dropped the small cooler he had brought with him onto the floor beside him. He propped a leather clad arm over the seat beside him,as he sat back to watch her.

She skipped and spun to soundless music. Her French braid flying in the air around her. Her arms gyratingas she moved. She fluidly twisted her body into a backwards cartwheel, landing perfectly, knees bent at the precise angle. As the music started to slow to an end; she launched herself into the air in a perfect triple Lutz, and when she landed, started into a double layback spin. Turning so fast that all Remy could see was a blur of black and green

Finally, the music ended as she slid to a stop, head bent, arms in the air, one leg on the ground, the other leg bent at a ninety-degree angle behind the first.

She was snapped out of her trance by the sound of clapping. Stunned she whipped around, the twin white stripes of her bangs flying around her face. Annoyed, she shoved the offending strands of hair behind her ear, glaring daggers at her friend lounging by the bleachers, looking for all the world as if he owned the place .

"What are you doing here, swamp rat?" she called as she skated towards him.

He merely lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug and instead of answering, reached into the cooler beside him to bring out a cup of steaming coffee, which he waved in her direction to entice her.

As usual, the smell of fresh coffee won over her anger at him, so she skated faster. Thankfully reaching the opening leading off the rink, she rested against the plexus-glass to slip on her skate guards and then stepped onto solid ground. Remy patted the seat next to him; obligingly she walked over and sat down. He immediately handed he a steaming mug of extra large Starbucks coffee and a small box, which she opened to realize held her favorite pastry, ruggelaches.

Sighing happily, she flung own arm around his waist, to give him a big hug, her anger completely forgotten.

"Oh swamp rat, you're a lifesaver!"

He laughed; deep and throatily, returning her one armed hug. "If this is how you react, I should give it to you more often".

She disentangled herself from his embrace, picked up her Styrofoam cup of coffee and inhaled deeply, sighing happily. "Yeah right, this kind of welcome only comes once in a while, and besids, it wasn't you I was happy to see, but my coffee." she answered

Taking a bite out of her pastry, she set it gingerly down on the space beside her, next to her coffee. Anna-Marie quickly stripped off her sweat-soaked jacket, revealing a curvy, toned upper body accented by pale milky-white skin, graceful swan-like neck and amble breasts encased in a tight green sleeveless spandex tank top.

Unwittingly Remy's gaze traced the graceful line of her long neck and down to her firm high breasts that rose and fell with every breath.

Hearing her sigh, he tore his gaze away from where it should not have been in the first place and turned to face her. In their fifteen years of friendship, he had never been attracted to her or looked at her in a romantic way.

(Dieu! what was wrong with him? "

Anna-Marie not detecting her best-friend's turmoil, made short work of her pastries and coffee. Dropping the empty carton and Styrofoam cup in the trash can beside her; she reached under the bleachers for her duffel bag. Slipping off her skates, she put on her sneakers and strode up, starting towards the door leading out of the rink.

"SUGAH! You coming? We have an Oscar ceremony to attend to in four hours; we don't have any time to waste."

He looked at her incredulously. "I thought you didn't want to go?"

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "Nah, I was just angry that you won the damm poker game, and here I thought you knew the inner workings of a women minds."

He stood up, picking up the cooler and Anna-Marie's duffel bag and followed her.

When they reached his black Maybac, he threw the cooler and duffel bag into the trunk. Then he opened the passenger's side door for Anna-Marie to enter, like the southern gentleman, his mother had trained him. He got into his side of the car and stared the engine. Leaving the parking lot of Vander Field arena. Turning off Sunset Boulevard, they drove down the freeway and into the heart of Los Angeles. Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at Anna Marie's condominium.

"Aren't you going to go home and get dressed?" she asked, as she got out of the car.

"I don't have to go home, I have all thatI need here, " he answered pulling out a small black suitcase from his trunk. "I told the limo driver to pick us up here."


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer; I don't own the X-MEN

**THREE.**

* * *

Two hours later, Remy Lebeau sat on one of the Comfortable green sofas strategically placed around Anna-Marie's living room. His golden brown hair that usually hung like a curtain around his face was swept back into a queue at the base of his neck that defined his delicate aristocratically features. High cheekbones, long Gaelic nose, full sensual lips, stubborn jaw.

He wore a coal black Hugo Boss suit, dark blue dress shirt and a black tie that complimented his naturally olive bronzed skin and his tall lanky build. His size eleven feet were encased in custom made Ralph Lauren leather shoes. The only time he dressed up was when he was meeting clients. Usually, he wore a black t-shirt, jeans, leather boots and his brown trench coat.

He checked his watch, relaxing back into the sofa when he realized that the still had an hour and the half to spare before they had to be at the venue. As he looked around the room, he could not help but smile. While his living room was organized, furnished with antiques and centered around one theme color. Anna-Marie's was messy, filled with modern furniture and knickknacks of all colors. She had opted to paint the walls a pale-blue with gold leaves around the border. Her living room was airy with lamps in each corner.

Hearing a rustle of clothing behind him, he turned to towards the doorway that led from the bedrooms and bathrooms to the living room. As he looked at the figure standing by the doorway, smiling nervously, his jaw dropped and his pupils dilated, drool practically dripping from his mouth.

Anna-Marie stood a beguiling picture in a floor-length figure hugging dress featuring a high-necked evening gown with a black velvet bodice that hugged her upper body, a blue satin skirt with a silver ribbon accent which clung to her waist and flowed down to her feet. Her nervous fingers clutched a black-diamond studded velvet-evening bag. Diamond half moon earring twinkled on her ear. And as she walked towards him, the dress shifted over her legs, reveling black strappy stilettos heels.

"What are you staring at, swamp rat?" she asked, her southern accent thickened, a sign of her acute nervousness.

He couldn't seem to take his eyes off her; an" Hmm" was all he could manage.

Her usual gothic make-up was gone and in its place was more subtle makeup. Her waist length corkscrew curled hair usually in a French braid was let loose to tumble down her back. a thin silver head band securing it. The twin stripes of straight silvery white hair left to frame her heart-shaped face.

For a few minutes, all he could do was stare. Then he scraped his hanging jaw off the floor and stood up, holding out a hand to her. As she placed her smaller hands in his, he tugged her gently so that she spun and landed between the curve of his arms. Wrapped in his arms, she could not help but drown deeply into the swirling red on black mass that was his eyes. As if in a haze, she lifted one long, pale finger to trace his cheekbones, down to the slightly stubbled line of his jaw and up to trace the line of his full lips. Closing her eyes, her hands drifted back to her side as she sighed softly burying her face into the curve of his neck.

Eyes hooded, lips parted to draw in much needed oxygen, he stared down into Anna-Marie's thick midnight burgundy hair, trying to clear his muddled head, but his mind's eye would not help matters by replaying what she'd just done over and over.

He had watched breath abated as she traced his features with an elegant, milky white finger. He swallowed the lump of uncertainty that had permanently become lodged in his throat as he remembered the tug of desire and yearning in his heart, that he had felt while watched her dreamy expressional face.

Abruptly the doorbell rang, its chimes dissolving the dream-like atmosphere. Anna-Marie stiffened in his arms and started to pull away, now realizing what she had been doing. Inwardly, he cursed but allowed her to pull away. He watched as she physically and mentally retreated from him, smoothing shaky hands over her top.

(Good,) he thought to himself. (She as affected by this as I am.)


End file.
